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( chapter sixteen ! ) - 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬
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The next day, Robin, Daryl, T-Dog, Hershel and Rick gathered in the area just outside the cellblock to eye the weapons the men had found.
Rick and T-Dog had gone out earlier in the morning to gather all the useful equipment they could find so that they could push further into the prison in hopes of finding the infirmary, maybe even some food. Robin had managed to get Rick to agree that she could come along, with the reasoning that she might actually go crazy if he let her sit around in the cellblock and do nothing.
"Not bad," Daryl commented as he picked up a flashlight which lay between all the other stuff.
"Flashbangs, CS-Triple-Chasers..." Rick said. "Not sure how they'd work on Walkers, but we'll take them."
Robin stood next to their leader with her arms crossed over her chest. Her brows were cocked and her attention fixed on the one riot gear the men had managed to take from some dead Walker. She leaned forward and picked up the helmet. Goo streamed out of it, making her pull back her feet so that she wouldn't ruin her shoes.
"Gross," she muttered.
T-Dog smiled a little. He shrugged and copied Robin's movement by picking up a glove. That, too, was covered in some disgusting goo. "We could boil 'em," he suggested sarcastically.
His eyes met Robin's. There wasn't enough fire in the whole forest to boil just that one riot gear, she was sure. She cocked her head and put the helmet back down just as Daryl grabbed the bulletproof vest. It didn't look as bad as the rest of the uniform, but it smelled like death.
He walked around the table and pushed it against Robin's chest—he tried to be soft, and yet, it felt a bit harsh. Daryl let go of the thick material, so Robin instinctively closed her fingers around it so that it wouldn't fall to the floor. She shook her head. "What am I supposed to do with this?"
"Wear it," Daryl replied matter-of-factly.
Robin scrunched her face up into a look of disgust. "It stinks."
